It didn't help that the message came as I was having a caffeine energy crash.

In between checking papers and waiting for the 4 pm class viewing of "Super Size Me," I received the message that totally came from left field. Gud pm. 22o bng c...

How the fuck did that happen?

Didn't know who to talk to. Went to one cubicle. No one there. Went to another. Still no person. Okay, okay. There's only one person who can confirm this. Found said person at usual spot. Got the confirmation I needed. I couldn't believe it.

Called up my unexpected texter. Exchanged roughly-constructed battle plans. Had to run outside for my own safety (paranoia-induced, of course), continued the call until the person on the other end of the line promised to call back.

Went back to cubicle under the pretense of returning to checking. Of course, I already knew that it wasn't an option. Was already jumping up and down for lack of any form of release (not to mention shaking off my energy crash). Gritting my teeth, angrily swinging the doors, my brows in their familiar furrowed position.

All it took was fried chicken and an unassuming eating companion.

An hour later, my class and I witnessed Morgan Spurlock's descent into cholesterol hell.

Obviously calmer at this point. But my head is still ticking. Need to talk to those who can do something, or at least those who have the balls to do so.